


Touch-y

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: First Times, M/M, Series: The Nonsense Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 02:19:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/792929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Jim and Blair discover exactly how touchy they really are.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Touch-y

## Touch-y

by Mona Ramsey

* * *

"Touch-y"  
by MonaR.  
monaram@yahoo.com 

"Five bucks that Jim flips out when he hears the assignment." 

Simon shook his head. "Too easy. Ten bucks that they both flip out." 

"Oh, come _on_ , captain. I'll give twenty that neither of them blows it here, but they hold out until tomorrow." 

Various bets were placed on the desk of Simon Bank's desk, as detectives and some uniformed officers laid down their money. What they were betting on was the probability that one of Cascade's finest, Jim Ellison, and his partner, Blair Sandburg, would go ballistic when they heard the next assignment that they would be investigating. From the inside. _Deep_ inside. 

There had been a rash of burglaries at some of Cascade's underground clubs, and although a lot of money was involved, details were sketchy at best. Only a few of the club owners would co-operate with the police, fearing losing their business if their clientele discovered the rash of venuespecific thefts. 

And the venue involved? Gay and lesbian bars, of course. Cascade was a university town, and there were five such places within a thirty-mile radius. 

The only thing to do was to assign two people to go undercover, from the inside, and root out the thieves while attracting as little attention as possible. Even the club owners would not be aware that they were being infiltrated by the police. Simon had considered asking to place the two as employees, but knew that such a sting would take far too long to set up. Three of the clubs had already been hit, and if the pattern was adhered to, the next one would be struck on the weekend. That left only four days to get a team in place, and that wasn't nearly enough time. 

The problem was, choosing the appropriate pair for the job. Simon had mulled it over thoroughly - for about five seconds. And when Joel had gotten wind of his selection, all hell had broken loose. 

The men in the office quieted down when they realized that the objects of their fierce betting had arrived back in the squadroom. Jim Ellison, tall, buff, and delicious, and Blair Sandburg, smaller, compact, with a ready smile and a wicked sense of humour, walked in, high-fiving, laughing, and, well, _touching_ each other. Constantly. 

They touched all the time, unconsciously, getting into each other's personal space without a second thought. Even all of the hard-bitten detectives and police officers who made up Cascade's finest had gotten used to their close friendship and camaraderie. It was just accepted - Ellison and Sandburg were a couple, closer than friends, _way_ closer than family. They'd been sharing Jim's apartment - as roommates - almost since they first met. If either of them showed up at the station without the other, he had to spend twenty minutes answering questions about the whereabouts of the other. 

True, Jim had had a number of "official" partners since Blair had become an unofficial police observer three years ago, several of them female, but somehow none of them managed to stay around for very long. Neither he nor Blair ever seemed to lack for female company outside of work, either \- but relationships between police and civilians were always difficult to forge, and none of their lady friends stayed around much longer than the female police detectives did. It was to be expected in this type of work. At least, that's what they kept telling each other. 

So they were a team, Ellison and Sandburg, the cop and the kid, the SuperCop and the SuperHippie. Even the nicknames that they'd chosen for each other reflected this reality - "Big Guy," and "Chief." 

Simon's office cleared out pretty quickly, but no-one went very far. Joel, who was trusted with keeping the kitty, stayed as close as possibly without actually staying inside. 

There were no explosions that morning, though. Jim and Blair stayed in Simon's office for twenty minutes, hearing out the basics of the new assignment, picking up folders and then filing out again, to sit down at their shared desk and go over the logistics of the sting. 

But there was something different about the two of them when they came out of Simon's office, only no-one could quite put their finger on it. They were a little more subdued, but that could be explained perfectly by the seriousness of being thrown back out on assignment so quickly after finishing their last one. But - it was something more than that. 

Joel puzzled over the difference in the air for most of the rest of the day. It wasn't until Jim and Blair called out their good-byes that he realized what it was: neither one of them were touching. No playful shoves, no head-butting, no noogies, no gentle pinches. Nothing. 

/Looks like this betting pool is going to be more interesting than I thought./ 

* * *

Neither one of them spoke on the ride home, both lost in their thoughts. Finally, when they got back to the loft, Jim said, "Do you want something to eat, Chief?" 

"Nah, I'm not hungry." 

"Me, neither." 

Blair hung up his coat and slung down his backpack. "So, are we supposed to go there tonight - " 

Jim nodded. "Get the lay of the place, pick out some regulars, talk to some people. We won't go in wired until Friday." 

"Huh. I haven't been out clubbing since - " 

"Last weekend?" 

Blair wrinkled his nose at his partner. "Actually, it's been months." 

"Well, you're one up on me." Jim shook his head. "I can't believe Simon assigned _me_ to this." He walked into the bathroom and stood in front of the mirror. "I mean, look at me - not exactly bar material. I'm gonna look like a narc." 

"Not necessarily." Blair peered over his shoulder at Jim's reflection. "Put a pair of tight jeans on and a pair of sunglasses, and you'll look like a clone. It's not the most modern look, but you'll be able to pull it off." 

"Thanks," Jim said dryly. "*You're* going to have no problem fitting in, that's for sure." 

"And what is that supposed to mean?" 

"It's just that you look - " 

"Yes?" 

"Well, you're young. You're single. You're attractive." Jim hurried on with his litany of Blair's attributes regarding this assignment. "You've got the long hair and the attitude. I'm sure you'll be very popular. I mean, the occasional woman doesn't turn you down," he kidded, "so I'm sure you'll be a hit with the guys." 

"Yeah, well just remember I'm supposed to be there with you, okay, Jim? You leave me alone in there fending off eligible bachelors and I'm not going back." 

"All you have to say is 'no', you know." 

"Yeah, right, whatever." Blair went into his room, drawing back the curtains on the glassed-in door. 

Jim was surprised - he never usually did that. He was used to getting the occasional eyeful of Sandburg ripping through his room like a whirlwind, tearing off clothes and changing into different ones for a date, or an assignment. /Huh./ 

"You'd better find something to wear, Jim," Blair called out. "And try not to look _too_ much like a narc." 

* * *

Jim rummaged through his clothes, finally deciding that Blair was right and he should just try to go as casual as possible. He pulled on a pair of his worn jeans, unconscious of the way they molded to his hips and ass, and a plain black t-shirt. No point in drawing any untoward attention, after all. 

Blair was in the bathroom when he came down. When he pulled open the door, Jim stopped in his tracks. 

"Is that Spandex?" he asked. 

Blair nodded. "Uh-huh. Do I look stupid?" 

Jim just shook his head, out of words. His partner was wearing a tight pair of black jeans, and a hunter green spandex bicycle shirt with short sleeves, the combination of which left nothing to the imagination. The outline of his nipple rings were plainly visible through the tight stretched cloth of the shirt. A waft of "Obsession" followed him out of the bathroom. 

Jim found it strangely intoxicating. He shook his head, clearing his thoughts. "Well, are you ready?" 

"Yup. You got money?" 

"Some. We're not going to get drunk, you know." 

"I know, but we've got to have _something_ , to make it look good. Don't worry - I know when to say when." Blair sailed out the door, and Jim, grabbing his keys, rushed to catch up. 

* * *

The night was a lot less stressful than either one of them had thought it would be. They perched at the bar most of the time, talking to the bartender and a few of the regulars. Far from feeling out of place and obvious, everyone there seemed to instantly realize that they were 'together', so, except for a few dance invitations, they were left alone. They had a few drinks - Blair had some beer and Jim, DDing, club soda - listened to the music, and left around midnight. 

"Well, that went well," Blair said. 

"Yeah, except for the cigarette smoke. Sorry I had to go out so often." 

"Not a problem, Big Guy," Blair smiled. "I figured you were having a problem with it. Besides, it gave me a chance to 'dish' with Steve." 

Steve was one of the bartenders in the place, who had befriended them over the course of the evening. 

"Oh, yeah? About what?" 

"Oh, the usual - boyfriend doesn't treat me right, how to keep him in line - you know how it is," Blair grinned. 

"Yeah, I do. _My_ 'boyfriend' has a problem using all the hot water, taking forever in the bathroom, slacking off with the housework - " 

"Gee, Big Guy, I can't imagine why you stay with him, if he's so terrible," Blair said, mystified. 

"There are certain fringe benefits," Jim mock-leered, and they both broke up, unable to keep up the charade any longer. "Oh, man, Chief - we should be saving this stuff. We need more banter for tomorrow night." 

"Oh, I don't know," Blair said, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the seat of the truck. "I think we've got it down pretty well." 

Jim glanced over at his partner, who seemed on the verge of dozing off. /Yeah, I guess we do. . ./ 

* * *

Three days later, Jim and Blair lounged in Simon's office. The sting had gone off perfectly, and they'd caught the burglar - a temp bartender who'd worked most of the clubs and had had an inside opportunity to study the layout of each. He'd kept to his normal pattern and provided an easy arrest for Jim. 

"Well done, gentlemen," Simon said, lighting a cigar up. It was Saturday afternoon, and the paperwork was finally finished. "I won't expect to see either of you before Tuesday - unless something comes up," he grinned. 

"Bite your tongue, Simon," Blair said, sliding down from his perch. "I for one am not even going to answer the phone, and neither is Jim. I'm taking him out into nature for a while, so he can clear his senses out. That bar was hell on them." 

"Make sure you take your cell phone!" Simon called out as they left his office. 

"Yeah, no problem, Simon," Jim said. He and Blair walked out of the precinct. 

They were in the car before Blair asked, "Jim, where's the cell phone?" 

"On my desk," Jim said. 

They looked at each other. 

Jim kept driving. 

* * *

Ah, nature. Quiet. Peaceful. Surrounded by trees, clean air, birds - 

"Jim!" 

Noisy guides. "Yeah, Blair?" 

"Food's on!" 

Ah, _helpful_ noisy guides. "Coming!" 

Good food, too. Not very fancy, but good camping food. Jim cleaned his plate in a hurry. "Great stuff, Chief." 

"Thanks." 

Quiet, reflective, nature. A man could get lost in his own thoughts here. Jim leaned back on the blanket spread outside the tent. Felt the warmth coming off best friend lying near him. Unusually _quiet_ best friend. 

"Blair?" 

"Yeah?" 

"What are you thinking about?" 

"Nothing. Why?" 

"Just wondering." 

Time to think, ponder things - the meaning of life, what makes the sky blue, what makes Blair Sandburg quiet, stuff like that. /Something's been a little off, lately,/ Jim thought to himself. /Can't put my finger on it, though./ 

Turn head, look at best friend looking up at sky. Close, but not touching. Just like - 

Ah, realization slowly dawning. 

"Blair?" 

"Uh-huh." 

"We stopped touching." 

"Excuse me?" 

"We stopped touching. When we were on this assignment, we stopped touching." 

"What do you mean we stopped touching? We don't touch." 

Jim raised his eyebrows. "We touch all the time. High-fives, noogies, playful slaps on the ass - we're practically professional athletes. But when we had to pretend that we were involved, we stopped touching." 

Thoughtful looking guide. Pondering. "Well, it would have been different." 

"Why?" 

"We were pretending to be boyfriend and boyfriend, Jim. If we'd been touching then, then it would have meant - " Guide's voice trails off. Realization dawning. 

"Uh-huh." 

"Oh, man!" Blair jumped up. "No, way!" 

"Blair - " 

"We are _just_ friends, Jim. That's all. I mean, I've never - not with a guy - and we couldn't - we're just - " 

"Breathe, Blair." Jim reached over and patted Blair on the back. "See, I'm touching you now, and it's fine." Deep blue eyes looked up, framed by unruly curls, and Jim's mouth went dry. "Uh-oh." 

"Jim - " 

"Hell." Jim bent down and kissed his guide. Was extremely gratified to feel said guide kissing back. 

Eventually, the kiss ended. 

"Um, Jim?" 

"Yeah?" 

"Did you just kiss me?" 

"Uh-huh." 

Silence. 

"Blair?" 

"Yeah?" 

"You _were_ kissing back, right?" 

"Yeah." 

More silence. 

"Jim?" 

"Yeah?" 

"You want to - do it again?" 

Silence punctuated by soft kissing sounds. 

* * *

Funny thing about kissing - it often leads to more intimate forms of touching. Jim and Blair were about to find that out for themselves. 

Of course, kissing was a very good place to start \- and return - and continue. And kissing didn't have to be confined to mouths, either. Jim found out that there was this little hollow at the base of Blair's neck that made him - 

"Oh, _god_!" 

And Blair discovered that kissing an _extremely_ intimate part of Jim's anatomy sparked quite an interesting chain reaction. Started with bucking of most of his nether regions, moved up into a definite thrusting motion, complete with hands wrapped tightly around curly head, ended in something that was quite like - 

"Yes! Blair! _Chief_! Yes!" 

Lots of discoveries were made, including the fact that Blair fit very nicely into Jim's arms. That Jim had a predilection for biting - there were many unexplained hickeys on Blair that had to be covered before work on Tuesday. That Blair was an absolute expert at giving a blow-job. That Jim knew a way to stroke his partner-guide-lover that made him forget what his name was. That Blair screamed when he came. 

That Jim was incredibly in love with his partner. 

And that Blair felt the same way. 

* * *

They spent a great deal of that weekend in the tent, and on the blanket in front of the tent. Clothing rapidly became too confining and was discarded. Love was given and received in a hundred different ways. 

Way too soon, it was Monday afternoon, and they had to return to Cascade. 

The drive home was interesting. Jim drove, watched Blair staring out the window, and obsessed all at the same time. 

Blair said nothing, and stared out the window. 

Jim could finally stand it no longer. "Chief?" 

Blue eyes shifted away from the window. "Um?" 

"Are we okay?" 

Blair thought for a moment, then shook his head. Jim's heart sank a little. 

"I don't know about you," Blair said, "but *I'm* pretty sore." He moved over on the seat of the truck. "And kind of tired. How much further until we're home?" 

"Half an hour." 

"Cool." Blair moved further over. "Wake me up when we get there." He lifted Jim's right arm and snuggled against him, curling the arm around his shoulders. 

Jim happily held his guide, feeling the warmth of the small body relaxing against him. He was sure Blair was asleep when he heard his voice, very low, "Jim?" 

"Uh-huh?" 

"You remember all those times I told you you were too touchy?" 

Jim smiled. "Yeah." 

"Forget I said that, okay?" 

"You got it, Chief." Jim nuzzled the top of those silky curls with his cheek, and Blair fell asleep. 

The End  
MonaR.  
monaram@iname.com/monaram@mailcity.com 


End file.
